Dear Dad,
I’m writing to you from my own grave. The grave of grief.
I miss your kind voice. That no matter how stubborn I was growing up, you still showed me love and understanding.
I miss our petty arguments. Political landscape has gone even more berserk now, and there’s drama and comedy rollicking on everyday. But this time around though, we would probably just look at each other and laugh it all off… because we wouldn’t care anymore.
I miss texting you “I love you!” Heartfelt words that I never said enough when I was a kid.
I miss your kindness. Not only from a place of fatherly love, but also how you treated people with genuine heart. No wonder why your funeral was packed with strangers. You were beloved. Perhaps, you were even a hero to some of them. What a legacy you left behind! I hope you had known that.
I miss our reflective and fun conversations at dinner. It felt like a daily life review without holding back. I could ramble on about my foolishness knowing that you wouldn’t judge me one bit at all. Something that I have always treasured.
I miss how determined you were to beat the computer in every scrabble game. I remember the funny look on your face each time it would get a two-digit score. Ha-ha!
I miss our coffee moments in scorching afternoons. Classic Movies would be on, and you believed that every actor was either Al Pacino or Robert De Niro. Clark Gable never existed at all. Neither did Spencer Tracy.
I miss how much you appreciated my cooking, though I knew it wasn’t as good as how you would want it, but just how you looked at me with love… as if I was your parent… meant the heaven to me.
I miss how kids in the neighbourhood would run to you and call you “Father! Father!”, and then they would simply drop all the crazy and funny stories that happened to them in school and at home.
I miss how you would day dream about the past and the future… how much you wanted to build a bigger and nicer house for us. I want you to know that you gave us the most beautiful home ever in the whole world that not even the wealthiest father could ever give.
I have so much more to say. But this is all I have for now… as my heart cannot take it anymore. It has been eighteen years, and the pain seems to have been getting worse everyday. I am getting older now and I am about to undergo a lipoma surgery. Something minor, but hey, death is inescapable anyway.
I will see you someday, dad.
Get the coffee, the stories, and the classic movies ready.
Love,
J.J.*
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